


Even Dark Shadows Only Exist With Light

by Minyoongistummy



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Bang Chan-centric, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Found Family, Gen, Jisung is only briefly mentioned I'm sorry, Like Really The Softest, Platonic Cuddling, Platonic Relationships, Woojin and Chan are platonic dads
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-15
Updated: 2019-02-15
Packaged: 2019-10-28 20:03:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17793851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Minyoongistummy/pseuds/Minyoongistummy
Summary: The sizzle and crackle of food on the stove was the only indication Chan had that he’d made it into the kitchen, eyes still resolutely closed, and he distantly felt himself bump along the fridge before he was sprawled across the counter, unable to bring himself to care how the cold seeped through his t-shirt.A soft chuckle sounded to his right, and there was something set beside his head (spatula?) before a large warm hand was working over his curls, brushing the brittle fluff from his forehead. “Morning,” Woojin muttered, voice just as groggy as Chan imagined his own would be.---or: Chan is tired and he loves his family and his family loves him





	Even Dark Shadows Only Exist With Light

Chan almost missed the smell of food with how drained he was when he stepped into their dorm, the sun just barely touching the rooftops in the crisp early morning. The faint sound of early morning commuters was cut off as he slowly but surely worked the front door shut behind him, unable to keep his eyes open long enough to properly kick his shoes into the closet without knocking aside half the other pairs. A rumbling hum sounded through his throat as way of greeting as he stumbled his way towards the kitchen, bag abandoned somewhere along the way when Chan couldn’t find the care or strength to keep it up on his shoulders. The sizzle and crackle of food on the stove was the only indication Chan had that he’d made it into the kitchen, eyes still resolutely closed, and he distantly felt himself bump along the fridge before he was sprawled across the counter, unable to bring himself to care how the cold seeped through his t-shirt.

A soft chuckle sounded to his right, and there was something set beside his head (spatula?) before a large warm hand was working over his curls, brushing the brittle fluff from his forehead. “Morning,” Woojin muttered, voice just as groggy as Chan imagined his own would be, and the younger boy felt inclined to repay the attention given to him. With a long-suffering sigh, Chan swung his hip to the side so his body was angled more towards his friend, head lolling to the side so he could crack an eye open with another chest caving hum, ignoring the dry sting of exhaustion.

“Morning,” Chan returned, confirming his previous suspicion with an added touch of well-worn scratchiness to his voice. Now that his eyes were open, he took the chance to actually see what the other boy was making, and a pitiful whine slipped from him as he gave a small wriggle, tired brain unable to feel shame, even as Woojin laughed good naturedly.

“You can have some too,” he assured, flicking one of the burners off and moving the egg and veggie concoction to a different spot, switching his attention to the various bits of meat he seemed to be grilling. “In fact, you’re going to,” he amended, with such resolution Chan didn’t offer his immediate denial as he usually did. And then the moment passed, and Chan was pushing himself up to stand, back bending with a hair-raising pop and a stiff groan as he tried to wake himself just a small bit, just enough.

“I’m okay, the kids always say there isn’t enough for seconds, I’ll make sure to eat something later,” he assured, though he did lean in for one last long sniff, lips pressed in a thin line, equal parts pained and determined. Woojin, though seemingly nearly as tired as the other, was surprisingly quick in taking Chan’s shoulders in hand and shuffling him back to a stray chair that always seemed to find its way into the kitchen (none of them liked to be alone much, and a couple of them were quite short).

“I made coffee,” was all Woojin offered, turning again to toss the meat, and then retrieve two mugs from the cabinet. In that moment, Chan felt an all-consuming warmth fill him that his tired brain couldn’t quite deal with in the state he was in, but he let it sit nice and fuzzy in his chest as he melted back into the decidedly uncomfortable chair, eyes slipping closed again. He knew Woojin would take care of him, and that fact had him drifting mindlessly for the next few however many seconds until he was gently brought back by a hand again carding through his hair carefully parting tangles. “Drink,” was all Woojin said, with that patient smile that made months of weight magically lifting from Chan’s shoulders, and he couldn’t have denied the older again even if he’d wanted to as he brought the offered mug to his lips, eyes slipping closed for an entirely different reason this time around.

“Hyunjinnie was up late finishing an assignment last night,” Woojin started a couple minutes later, working slow but sure over evenly dishing up plates, accounting for who would be up first, who ate what, giving Chan his calm silence as he sipped half his coffee away. It was conversational, a statement of facts, meant merely to keep Chan updated on the goings on within the dorm, and he briefly wondered when he would stop being indebted to the older boy. It wasn’t news that Chan felt guilty when he wasn’t aware of what was going on in the other boys’ lives, taken up by lyrics, composing, meetings, everything that wasn’t his little makeshift family, but it wasn’t something he was quick to admit. Woojin always had a way of knowing without it being said – with all the boys, in any situation, Woojin was quick to take in a situation, an expression, a fidget, anything, and was able to react in a way Chan was not always able to.

They were a team, in a way. Of course, all of them were a team, nine or none, and nothing could ever take that from Chan, but the two oldest boys were close in a way the others couldn’t be. It didn’t mean anything _more_ than the connections they had with the others, they weren’t somehow **closer** because of their unique situation, but it was different. They were same age friends, they were the oldest, and they had found themselves in the position of faux parental figures within their little family.

Admittedly, it had been embarrassing at first. Chan was used to being the one caring, working, assuring, forgiving, and anything else the world could ask him to do; its what he was. Chan existed for the 8 other boys in his life, and he’d do everything in his power to make sure he could continue to do so for as long as possible. But somehow, at some point, what felt like overnight, it became the two of them. And it had never felt like Chan was being replaced, there was never a time where it felt like his position was being filled by Woojin, but rather, the cracks caused by stress and exhaustion in his little goblet of love that he so often emptied for others was being carefully repaired and refilled, and together they were able to give more, care more, be _more_ , for the others. It was a lot, and he sometimes got a little mortified when he thought too much about it, in the early hours when the sun was soon to rise and he couldn’t quite feel his body anymore, but for the most part it was the greatest gift he’d been given aside from the other 7 boys, so he stubbornly let it be.

In the time Chan had taken to get lost in his tired-brain, Woojin had taken several plates to the table, only returning to slowly coax a huffing and whining Chan to the other room, snickering softly at his friend’s antics. When they made it to the table once again, Hyunjin and Changbin were already there – Changbin still in pajamas and clearly having been dragged in with the younger as he looked like he may as well be asleep in his seat, and Hyunjin with half his uniform on, steadily shoveling (veggiless) eggs into his mouth as he squirmed against the other until he was in the right position to lean against.

“Morning,” the two oldest boys muttered together as they took their own seats, Chan taking a moment to become human once again before picking up his own utensils and dutifully working on the (small, bless Woojin) pile on his plate. Woojin smiled approvingly at both Chan and Hyunjin before reaching to brush gently through Changbin’s hair much like he’d done for his friend just a few minutes prior. “Your food is gonna get cold,” he reminded gently, guiding the boy back to the land of the living with soft words and softer touches. Chan watched in tired fondness and Changbin slowly but surely came into himself, obediently opening his mouth when Hyunjin offered a bite of food with a giggle far too pure for this early in the morning.

“I love you guys,” was said into the room, surprising Chan more than anyone as it left his own lips, but he let it be all the same, knowing it was true and they should hear it. Hyunjin seemed to be fully awake by this point as he threw himself over to Woojin’s lap this time to laugh, happy embarrassment clear, and he was quick to return the sentiment, cheeks pink with mirth. Woojin as well returned it with a little confused laugh, making sure the youngest didn’t knock himself out with his wild flailing, hand cupped protectively over his head. Changbin, too, repeated the words, pleased little grin directed at his food, seemingly empowered by such a statement as he sat up and busied himself with eating.

So maybe it was okay, being like this – the exhaustion hurt, the stress hurt, the uncertainty hurt, but he had this, his family and his comfort and his light to look forward to over it all, and no matter what, they would be here, and they’d catch him when he needed to fall, as he did for them. They’d pick him up when he couldn’t do it for himself, and even if there were days when he couldn’t see the light in front of him, when he couldn’t feel the warmth that surrounded him, when the thought of waking up was too scary for the sleep promised, they’d be there to make sure he got to the end of it, to make sure he made it to the warmth when he couldn’t accept theirs, they’d love him when he couldn’t.

And when he found himself in his bed some hour later, Jisung trailing behind him after having been wrongfully woken to fling himself against the older’s side on the mattress, he found himself quite ready to wake again with the blonde boy (and undoubtedly another wanderer) at his side to see what the world had in store for him. At the end of the day, however many there were (and he surprised himself with how strongly he wished there were quite a few), these 8 boys would be there with him to fight their way to the light they so rightfully deserved.

**Author's Note:**

> How original is that title tho lol hi guys! I know its been 7582749 years since I've written anything so I decided to crank out a soft fluffy domestic piece to get the feeling of writing again. I've learned to stop promising I'll write lolol So this is my first try at Stray Kids and I'd love if you guys could give me feedback on characterization and whatnot? I know this was Chan focused but if there are any tips or anything I'd love to hear it!


End file.
